What a wonderful day.
Today was the annual Big Draw event at the Oriel Myrddin gallery in Carmarthen, where I sometimes work. The education officer at the gallery spent ages cutting and prepareing card and paper in various sizes, for a book making workshop. It was really well attended. Kids, adults and even teenagers (!) made sketch books in all sizes with such quirkey and original designs.
I was helping out, but ofcourse, was instantly sucked into a vortex of cutting and glueing. Drawing is a great leveller, and totally consuming. Each person in a creative bubble. Every one that came to the event enjoyed every minute. Thank you all.
Although I have been crocheting since I was nine, I started to crochet as part of my degree, to give a third dimension to diagrams and line drawings . I needed something that would grow in a similar way to a drawing, but with form and substance. Taking the line from the page and substituting the pencil for a hook , I could begin to explore interactive aspects of mark making, and give physical depth to repitition and pattern.
Through out world history , there are myths and legends that use line as a metaphor for lifes duration. Astral travellers speak of a silver thread and a golden bowl. Gwenivere woven magic into the scabbard of Arthurs sword `Excalibur` as protection, and Greek mythology has heroines like Penelope and Arachne, who wove the threads of time into fabrics that dictated their destinies. My favorite are the three fates, Clothio who spins the line , Lachesis who measures, and Atropos who finally cuts the length.
Their line in our hands.